The Uncorrupted
by antiassasinguy
Summary: Twenty Millenia ago, The Final Battle was fought the many races of Azeroth allied against The Lich King, and were victorious. But it seems that even after so long, evil never truly dies. Necromancer!Naruto. A World of Warcraft Xover with tones of Diablo .


Disclaimer: I don't own it, so you may not sue me.

Something went wrong on the first upload, and it was missing some text. I discovered this and revised: enjoy.

**Chapter One- The Scroll of Grim**

Twenty millennia ago, there was a war that rocked the realm of Heaven and Earth. The cries of its warriors, it is said, could still be heard to this very day, begging for forgiveness as the whips of hell lashed them with spite and twisted malice. This war was within the Realm of Azeroth, a land filled with beautiful and deadly wonders. Within this Realm, were three Lands, all of which were at odds with one another. Distrust was common, lust was pocket change, and the bloody cries of adventurous young men and women marching into the unknown realm were more than plenty.

Adventurers were plenty; few were soldiers. Many fell; many turned in sword and shield, staff and book, witnessing the grim and harsh realities of the life that they had chosen; a life of death and loss. War was eminent, and war was absolute; the Realm of Azeroth had descended into a spiral of never-ending battle, as blade and sword and fire made themselves the most common of all gifts, and blood was the pocket change. War was afoot, and the cause, for once, was not from the greed and desires of power-hungry orcs, corrupt elves or the natural greed and lust of men.

For The Scourge had made itself known to the brave souls of the bloody land. Made up of countless and endless hordes of abominations, rotting flesh, dark beings and souls lost to the realm, they stood at Northrend, mobilizing to purge the land of the beings that had remained defiant to their cause. The first of these forces to fall were the Dwarf Regiment, located at the lower tip of Northrend. Utterly outnumbered, and overwhelmed by the fear that which gripped them, the dwarves fell easily, male and female; they provided a feast for the dark entities of the Scourge that night, a feast of rotten flesh and thick skin, but a feast nonetheless. It was what would be called, the Beginning of the Slaughter.

And at the head of it all, upon the Realm of Azeroth stood the cold eyes of the Great Lich king, a God; the ultimate fusion of souls; the most powerful entity to have walked over the face of the Realm, save for the Titans. Once known as a naïve and fiery Paladin, and heir to the throne of Lordaeron; Arthas Minethil. Arthas had been one of the greatest assets that the Kingdom of Lordaeron had in their possession, an eager soldier, impatient, with a fiery temper. But he wasn't anymore; he had ascended in the levels of power and transcended the realm of darkness, spiraling into the ultimate evils. He murdered his father, slew his mentor, and, even before the descent of his corruption, had committed crimes and sins that would have made even the blackest soul proud. Betrayal; genocide; murder; deceit; it was there. Arthas, as the ones who had known him, was gone. Sins tainted the Lich King's armor, and it fed him well, it did.

The Lich King was the raw incarnation of strength, magic, power and the deepest and darkest evils of the human mind. He was absolute; all that stood in his way was burned to the ground. His enemies felled one by one, slowly, but surely. The Lich King was almighty; omniscient; calculating; maniacal. The foes that stood to overthrow him from the Frozen Throne and gain his power were swept aside like mere flies, crushed. Good and Evil was indistinguishable where power was concerned, here. And the Lich King, made of that power, made the march into the heart of hope.

Kalimdor never stood a chance. The Orcs of Kalimdor were the first ones to fall, The Lich King conquered Exodar and Orgrimmar, killing male, female, and Orcling that stood in his path; the only survivors of the Slaughter's Beginning were Rexxar, the half-Orc half-Ogre, with the former rendering him mute, and the blade of Frostmourne, the Legendary Sword that had infamously corrupted its current wielder, scarring his left eye and Thrall himself, whose pride and honour had been shattered by his inability to defend his people from the oncoming waves of undead.

Thrall would be forever scarred by this dishonor, and Rexxar's hate and determination would consume his being.

The next to fall were the Blood Elves and their Naga allies. Things were changing; the consumption of the land only increased the Scourge's might; magic was drained from the very beings of the Blood Elves. Within hours, the headquarters that was the base of operations of the Blood Elves was wiped off the face of Azeroth, and the utter decimation of the few soldiers, some veterans from the Fall of Quel'Thalas, their ruined Capital, leading all of them to flee to the safety of the eastern coast of Kalimdor. As they fell, the Blood Elves watched as their leader was devoured by a new creation, an Intelligent Abomination; a powerful being that carried the very disease that made the Scourge, and resurrecting him as a Lich. This very creature, in the future, would be the very one that would change the outcome of the battle, indirectly; a creation of Kel'Thuzad. The darkness was apparent now, looming over the tides of the ocean, the rocks of the mountains and the sand in the deserts. And looking from a cliff, across the oceans, the land that which he stood upon rotting from the sheer corruption that was beneath him, and the very Earth shook and trembled in fear.

Things were changing; the wheels of fate were turning in this world, and many a great thing would be. The Scourge was almighty, and as soon as the world had had enough fear; enough torture and mutilation, he would consume it.

Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of the Forsaken, one year later, was killed. She had her heart ripped out, and her soul sent to the Afterlife by defending her people from the power of the Lich King, who had come personally to consume the life of Sylvanas, which possessed the strongest will of those that had been under his command year ago. She was the one that broke free of his hold, and her charismatic, although distant, personality had drawn the Forsaken, to her.

And although, as the crimson moon shone and her blood was spilt through the night, her soul torn and tattered…

Her words had tarnished his soul. It is not known what was said, but after the night of her departure, The Lich King, regal and almighty; the mightiest being upon Azeroth, had ultimately changed. Sylvanas, in death, had won her battle.

But Kalimdor had now fallen, and the few that had been left behind would hold none of their own against the Scourge. This land was lost, and they were to flee. To flee to a land that they had never thought would grace: The Eastern Kingdoms. Thrall's support on the matter was to ensure the safety of the thousands that had been left from the millions; and praying, he hoped that Jaina Proudmoore would still held her in good graces. The Orcs, Taurens, Blood Elves, Trolls and what few was left of the Forsaken, fled their homes, the home of the Orcs and Taurens was now lost.

The Legend of Sylvanas' Words was among them, and the fear the witnesses to the Queen's last stand would always find that, there was fear in the icy blue glowing eyes of the Lich King; even for an instant, it was there. Her words.

Words that brought the hint of fear within the eyes of the almighty Lich King. Words that would be of legend.

The survivors of the Scourge's slaughter of Kalimdor's people fled to the Eastern Kingdoms, with the Tauren Shaman Earthbane, replacing the deceased leader, as the representative to the few tens of thousands that were left of a land that had more than millions in number. Jaina Proudmoore, the Leader of the Humans of Stormwind, took the refugees in, and for the first time in a long period, felt relief. They were allies now, that much was apparent. Thrall and Rexxar had changed since the last time they had seen her. Jaina was much more wary now, with the presence of the Lich King growing ever closer. Things had to be done. The Scourge would have to be confronted and dealt with.

Council would be taken amongst the races, all to launch a strategy to ensure their's, and their children's, survival…

Amongst the many demons and monsters that hold rank within the forces of the Scourge, there is a Ghost. The Ghost of Scholomance, and one of the more powerful officers; her name was Illucia Barov, bride to Alexei Barov and the matriarch to a family that had doomed itself to the Scourge's wiles. Beautiful, pale, sad and fair; those were the words a Scholomance upon gazing upon her semi-transparent visage. She would never sleep; never rest. Her place upon Azeroth had been sealed in a moment of dread and lust and greed. But even in this woman's heart, dark and corrupt, something would spark. She, the most unlikely of candidates, would be the one to be the catalyst of the Lich King's downfall. On a night in winter, the Scholomance was visited by a presence unlike what they contained, and a presence that would forever alter the history of the war: a Demon that the Old Gods had grown to fear: The Lord of Destruction.

Baal; Baal the Lord of Destruction. A messenger from the Afterlife himself. Deciding that he could no longer watch as The Lich King interfere with the course of mankind, he, of the Three Brothers of Hell, had decided to take a course of action, and assist with the downfall of the Lich King, to restore the balance of Good and Evil. He had come to Illucia, the Necromancer, in search of an item long thought lost to the world and the sands of time; the Scroll of Grim.

An item known to have been made by the only entity that was above the Demons and Angels other than God; _Death_. It was the very artifact that spawned Warlocks to become Necromancers, and was written and woven by the souls of holy and dark beings. Possession of the scroll was a sure sign of victory, and he, along with Tyrael of Heaven, the Archangel, were sent to assist from behind the scenes of the battle. Two sides: both hell-bent on the Lich King's end.

Illucia was chosen by the wards of Heaven and Hell as Baal's Champion, as she, of the Darkness, contained Light. She held compassion for her family; she had love; dwarfed by her arrogance, power and demonic influence. Yet, she cared for her children, scattered and bitter as they were; consumed by hate, despair and loss of a life they had known. She did not feel for her husband. Alexei's soul was as black as Kel'Thuzad's, and within their marriage, she looked to him only as a tool; a pawn for her power to reach much more self-fulfilling ends. But she pitied him. Only pitied.

And Baal restored Illucia to full form, in the prime of her life, a Dark Lady whose soul borderlined corruption. On the night of their meeting, Baal fused his own soul within Illucia's body, as to disguise himself from the eyes of man; it would be no good to be discovered, as Demons and Angels would only be allowed to interfere indirectly in this Realm.

The rule would be broken, by the dawn of winter, and the tears of blood would be shed, as the winds howled…

Baal and Illucia would work together to search for the Scroll of Grim, while the war was fought. Time was short, and they had to keep resing to search for the Scroll; the only tool upon the Mortal Plane that could be able to banish the Lich King from the Realm of Azeroth, and restore order. Illucia however, did acknowledge that she would be the one to possess the Scroll, and while Baal was confident she would not try to continue her search for power, she insisted.

Upon the other side of the Realm of Azeroth, Heaven and Hell had sent Tyrael to partner Baal to restore Balance.

Tyrael, the Archangel, possessed an old soldier on the verge of death by the name of Thorin Hermithius. Taking this form, he aided Jaina in the command of troops to counteract the strategies of the far more numerous, and much more powerful Scourge. Tyrael, working with resources limited to the mortal plane, and without his powers, successfully diverted the first wave of Scourge forces from the Capital of Stormwind, but not without the cost of cutting the food supply to the soldiers. This caused Jaina to move her troops to the West, in a far more weakened position. Thrall, with his Orcs, and Earthbane, with his Tauren survivors, would take the South of the Eastern Kingdoms, and set up bases to prevent themselves of annihilation. The Night Elves would provide the Allied Navy, alongside the Goblins and Gnomes, defending the coast with archers and catapults. The new World Tree had to be secured, and the Blood Elves and Night Elves, putting aside their differences for the first time in millennia, secured the home of the Night Elves. Trolls and Humans worked underground at times, for sneak attack pathways and defense of the Allied Forces. The Forsaken, because of their flexibility and identity, were used as spies by the Allies, providing information. Tyrael would oversee that they overcame their differences, and would guide them through it all, advising Tyrande Whisperwind, Thrall, Jaina and Malfurion, returning from the world that he had resided in so long.

For five long and hard years, the war would be fought, and the Scroll would be searched for, still, with no luck.

Until Kel'Thuzad, Lieutenant of the Lich King, came across it within the Ruins of Mad'Ragth; The tomb, unknown to him, of the man who had killed the First Necromancer: the First Corrupted. In his madness, this fallen one had buried himself to the Sands within the desert of Kalimdor, dying of hunger, isolation and the sole need to die and ascend.

The weapon; the only weapon that could have saved Azeroth, was now in the hands of the one who would destroy it.

But Kel'Thuzad, with no knowledge of this, kept the Scroll from The Lich King, nothing more than paper in his eyes.

He did not even realize, that this very Scroll would provide be the downfall of the Lich King, in the near future.

By this stage, the Allies would be dwindled to but a fraction of the forces that they had. Tyrael, even in all his wisdom, would fall in his strategies, as Stormwind crumbled all around them. The Scourge were finally here. Stormwind was the Last Stronghold. Kel'Thuzad and Lich King, in all their rotten and maniacal glory, had stood before the Last Stronghold; the last line of defense that the Allies had. Tyrande Whisperwind had fallen in battle, her corpse was used as a word of challenge, hung on a cross spread eagle and nude, shards of spears and swords riddling her body. Malfurion Stormrage, in his madness, made the first charge, as the archers and druids rained hell on the countless undead that were spread out across the land. In this strike alone, it is said that ten thousand of the Scourge fell.

This marked the beginning of a battle of the doom or the very survival of the Races of Azeroth. The final battle.

And then, The Lich King would take to the sword, and brandishing Frostmourne, slaughtered more than half the Night Elves, and crippling Malfurion. The Orcs made their assault here, charging down the flanks. The Lich King would cut his way through the many warriors that try to fell him, Mages; Warriors; Paladins; they all fell. And then Jaina took the stage, clad in a way similar to the days of old. The Lich King would break her arms and wound her head, smashing her form into the ground below, before commencing battle with Rexxar. Rexxar, as he was, fell quickly, a wound stabbing through his chest, and out his back into a rock, as the Scourge and Allies fought all around him.

And in the battles that commenced, there would be none more momentous than between Kel'Thuzad, and Illucia.

Illucia, in the five years of searching, would be one of the few Warlocks that took to the side of the Allies, and in this defining moment, would face Kel'Thuzad, the Scroll of Grim in his very possession at that moment; she would not realize her objective being so close. He would best her, and Baal would not assist, as his powers would not allow him to do so within the mortal realm. However, as the fates would have it, that Kel'Thuzad was in possession of the Scroll.

She would have a glimpse of it; grey, tattered, decorated with the embroidery of red gold of the skull of a dragon.

And in this defining moment, was when Baal, consumed by determination, grabbed the very Scroll from him, a specter of an arm appearing before Illucia, followed by a corporeal demonic form, smoky, and indistinguishable, apart from the glowing yellow eyes, three meters high, ripping off Kel'Thuzad's arm, and possessing the Scroll of Grim.

But because of this interference, the Soul of Baal was sent back to the underworld, where he would lay…

Kel'Thuzad, now vulnerable, was decapitated by Tyrael, still possessing the body of the deceased Thorin.

Together, they charged their way past hills, wounded and battered, towards the Lich King, as the Leaders and Champions of the Alliance fell one by one; wounded, crippled, and utterly broken. Tyrael, the taking the duty of the world, rested it upon the shoulders of Illucia, who ultimately decides her choice between the survival of the races… or the growing omniscience of The Lich King. However, before she decides, a ghoul mortally wounds her, its dirty and bloodied claw piercing right through her stomach, before her choice was made… destruction? Or life? Which one?

This was over; her time here was over. Death was ultimately, and ironically, her final destination. Tyrael, with the death of a Redeemed, and faced with no other choice, revealed his true form: as The Archangel Tyrael. Forcing his magic upon the Scroll, he read it out, a hymn heard throughout the battlefield, consuming the very minds of the corrupted Scourge warriors: all except for the Lich King. But Tyrael continued his reading of the Scroll, the hymn giving the few Allies renewed hope, and a cause for survival. The Lich King, seeing this, would try to stop Tyrael, and be confronted once again by Thrall, whose hammer would shatter his leg armor. Upon witnessing this, Tyrael would read something else: a harsher, darker, and altogether much more maniacal language, would be spoken. Even Jaina, with all her knowledge and lore, would be shivering at the sheer evil the language contained: she would not know what it was, but the words were inhuman, and beyond the Mortal Realm. Malfurion, thanks to the distraction by Thrall would then strike, only to be felled by the driving of Frostmourne through his chest, joining his beloved Tyrande.

And then, the words ceased, and Tyrael was no more; vanished in a whisper of wind. Thrall, shocked by this event, was then knocked away by an enraged Lich King, whose forces now had dwindled by the hundreds of thousands.

As Frostmourne came in for the final blow, however, chance and pure luck showed their power. An Intelligent Abomination, one of the creations of Kel'Thuzad, had fallen in the way of The Lich King's path and Thrall. In this mere instant, giving Thrall a chance to live, the Warchief jumped high, and struck The Lich King. All his might; all his determination, concentrated into one blow, and with that, he shattered the helmet, to reveal the weathered and corrupted visage of Arthas Menethil, whose head was bleeding. The words of Tyrael had taken away his immortality; his power; he was mortal once more. The Lich King, feeling the wet sensation upon his being, unfamiliar for such a long time, exploded in a rage, swinging Frostmourne towards Thrall, whose eye became blind. And as he awaited his doom, Rexxar, mortally wounded and bleeding, came charging, cutting through the shoulder of The Lich King. Blood made its presence known, as Arthas… yes, Arthas now, howled in pain and anguish, silver locks of hair all over his face. Arrows then came flying; arrows of the Alliance, all finding their place in his chest, piercing his armor, and felling him. As he lay on his knees, reaching for his blade, Rexxar neared the fallen form… and beheaded him, ending his life.

A pillar of pure power then raged, as Arthas' body turned into naught but dust, howling and raging as he did.

The torrents of power swept through the land, and the cry of Arthas' final screams echoed, before all went silent.

It was over; the battle was over. And now, a new beginning would emerge, amidst all the carnage and death…

_What is you wish, my Lady? What is your desire…? What is it that you hold dear to you…? What…? My Lady…_

* * *

Uzumaki Naruto woke up with a start, eyeing the calendar that was across the wall with distaste: it was the Genin Exams today, and he would have to be in top form. The sunshine blonde yawned, his sky blues eyes echoing the sentiments of his thoughts; he was so tired. It was exhausting, that's what it was. He hadn't slept peacefully in many a month. Scratching at his whisker-marked cheeks, Naruto proceeded to walk over to the table that adorned his bedroom, the only table: his study table, which was adjacent to the wall. He rubbed the sand out of his eyes, and closed the book that was set upon it, _The Basics of Ninjutsu Execution_; a Third Year ninja book. It was worn out and tattered, but he couldn't exactly be a chooser; not when he was a beggar. He took the empty bowl that was next to the book, before setting it on the small kitchenette that was in the only other room other than the bathroom. He wasn't rich, after all. 

Naruto walked silently, washing the empty bowl, the sound of the rushing water that flowed over his hands. He sighed again, remembering the events that had happened every single time that he did the Genin Exam. It was always his worst skill: The Bunshin no Jutsu. It annoyed him to no end. He just plain sucked at it! But trying hard always mattered to Naruto, and enduring the hardships was always somewhat a part of his life. Partly due to the fact that ever since he could remember, Naruto was always surrounded by hateful glares, whispers and the ignorance of his presence. Not one person, a grown up, at least, had acknowledged his being. And at the academy, the kids would not even pay any attention to him, at least, not for the right reasons. He was well known as a prankster; a trickster; agile, deceitful, dishonest and very much an incarnation of the two-faced Roman God, Janus: who had two faces, and deceived everyone. Finishing up washing the bowl, Naruto set the still wet ceramic onto the rack to dry, before popping over to his fridge, taking out a carton of milk, before drinking out of it, not even pouring the thing into a glass or a cup.

'Hmm… Maybe I should have gone to the grocers yesterday,' he checked the expiry date, 'Ew, last week, more like.'

He proceeded to throw the remains of the carton, and the carton itself, into the bin that was next to the fridge, which he noted was almost full. He sighed, completely forgetting that yesterday was garbage day in Konoha, and the Genins would have come to pick up his junk, only to see it wasn't there. Now, he had to deal with having a rather full bin of junk. Naruto sighed to himself again, and just dumped his milk carton aboard the other items in the rubbish bin.

_Man, I _have _been rather forgetful lately, which I am _not _I wonder if I'll forget to wear my pants to school today?_

He went over to his cupboard, which had only a bright orange jumpsuit, and his goggles on the floor of the cupboard. He reached out to put it on, and then remembered: he hadn't taken a bath yet. Closing the cupboard door, Naruto went over to the shower (which had only just recently been fixed yesterday), and took off his pajamas, as well as his walrus hat, and sighed as the hot water came pouring over him, thanking the plumber for coming to his rescue just this once in his life. He grabbed the shampoo, or what was left of it, and washed his hair, before going onwards with the conditioner and lotion. As he washed his body, however, a painful headache made itself known to the blonde, as he went down on one knee, naked, and gritted his teeth in pain as the headache made itself known again. He cursed words that a boy his age shouldn't have known. It was that headache again. That accursed headache. The one that he had whenever some random thing happen. The single headache that prevented him from taking a good night's sleep in the past few months.

_God damn it, why the Hell am I having these attacks?_ Before him, his surroundings flashed, before he slumped.

The accursed headaches. It was dying now, and he was fine, but nonetheless, the sharp pain as though there were many nails being screwed into his cranium. Naruto bit his lip, the rain from the showerhead making cooling his thoughts down, even though that he had set the shower to be hot. A couple of months ago he had started having these headaches, ever since he had a meeting with his village leader; the symbol of military strength; the Sandaime Hokage, or as Naruto called him; Sarutobi-jiji. The man who was like family to Naruto. The _only_ man who was like family. Naruto had been an orphan as far as he knew, and had no contact with other people, save for the memories of himself as a child, wandering through the streets with the Konoha ANBU (The Elite Ninjas, meant for murder, high risk recon, and protection of daimyou, on more occasions than one). Sandaime was, as far as Naruto was concerned, family. And he was also, other than family, Naruto's hero. Naruto wanted to become the ninja the Sandaime was; the best of the best, to gain power and knowledge, if only for the sake of being acknowledged by his peers and the rest of the village.

The headaches had started around three months ago, when Naruto had visited the Sandaime for his monthly pocket money. He was a mathematical wunderkind despite being only twelve, and had managed his money rather well, he had to say so himself, and Sandaime had been talking to him about his skills with mathematics, when a foreigner had come in the room, flanked by two ANBU, one with a dog mask, and the other with a chicken mask. Upon the contact his eyes made with the stranger, Naruto had realized that this particular person, if there were any doubts, was from one of the more sunny regions of the Elemental Countries, judging by his tan. The Sandaime left Naruto, walking towards the foreigner and greeting him, and introduced himself to the old and wizened Hokage, if only for a moment. He was an archaeologist, and under the commission of the Feudal Lord of Fire Country. And in his hands, he carried a scroll.

It was a dirty old scroll, and very much ancient, by any standards. Measuring around three feet in length, with an ornate bar that held the scroll was wound around. And upon the paper, from what was visible… was a dragon.

That was when the headache first hit. Naruto's head felt like it was burning, like there were thumbscrews pressed upon the temple of his skull. His nose was flaring, like he had caught scent of a putrid and at the same time, addictive, smell. He excused himself from the presence of the Sandaime at the time, and he couldn't even hear what he was saying at the time, as the would-be ninja's ears appeared to be blocked by the ringing sound. It was painful. He staggered all the way back to his place; he had to get somewhere. Sleep it off, somehow, ease the bad pains.

It never went away, even after all the months that went by, the headache stayed with him; constantly banging. And then it started to get interesting; sometimes, he'd just black out, or even space out in the middle of class (not that anyone realized). He had even stopped pulling his pranks on the village in the past few months, and had opted to hit the books instead. As a result of this, his grades had gone up a considerable amount, although nothing significant or exponential, it did grab the attention of the teachers, somewhat, even if all of them except for Mizuki-sensei and Iruka-sensei had accused him of cheating, or given the subtle hint that he did. It was a rather unpleasant experience. But still, the headaches did not go away. They decreased in frequency, but the pain did not get anymore less. And he dreamt…

Of a woman, beautiful, pale and sad, standing among ruin, bodies and the putrid smell of death and decay prevalent.

Of a stranger in a cloak, as silent as the night that she was shrouded in, and as mysterious as the blood red moon.

And of a mighty dragon, crying in anguish and pain, as it roared, shaking the Earth to its core, as dark as the shadows.

As the headache subsided, Naruto rose to his feet, naked and staggering to his closet. He had kept his condition away from the Hokage long enough, and now was the time to fess up what was just wrong with his head. He had a headache, and important or no, it was troubling him, and he had to go to the Hokage, since Sarutobi-jiji was the one who he usually went to for his troubles. And the Sandaime, although always busy, would always help Naruto in his troubles.

He put on his orange attire, donned and slightly wrinkled, but still wearable. He couldn't wear casual attire now…

'Yosh,' he cried, putting on a pair of green goggles, 'I'm going to become a ninja today, just watch out, Konoha!'

* * *

It was a dark night out. Almost midnight. The ANBU Patrol would be out anytime now, and he couldn't afford to get caught: his career as a ninja was at stake here; or at least, his _future_ career as a ninja. Uzumaki Naruto, officially today, had failed his Genin Exams. He would like to say that it wasn't his fault, but the fact remained that he had failed. The headaches had hit him during his turn in the pecking order, and as he was asked for the Bunshin no Jutsu to be performed, Naruto ended up with a clone that was pale, half-dead, and incredibly low in durability. But before he could protest, Iruka had silenced him with a long lecture, and a wish that next year would turn out better for him. Naruto had failed his Genin Exam, and he knew he could have passed; he _knew _it. Naruto had sworn out loud, walking past Uchiha Sasuke, the lone Uchiha, as his flock of women attended to him. Naruto, frustrated, angry and disappointed beyond belief, cursed Iruka as he stormed outside the Ninja Academy, bumping past several teachers and frightening several First year prospectus on his way out. As he walked out without a hitai-ate, Naruto saw the adults look at him with looks of contempt, before he had made his way to the old Ninja Academy, which was subjected to be torn down soon. 

And then, as he looked out to the horizon, Naruto encountered Mizuki: the nice teacher. They had a chat, and Uzumaki Naruto came privy to one small fact: he could still pass. If he could retrieve a particular scroll from the storage area of the Hokage's Tower. The mission was simple: sneak in, retrieve, and sneak back out with the scroll.

And then he would meet Mizuki at an abandoned shack twenty miles north by north east from the Tower, and claim his Hitai-ate; his forehead protector, to prove that he was as worthy a ninja as any other of those rookies in the class.

He was within the complex now, and had to sneak in to the lower levels to retrieve the scroll. He checked the ill-drawn map of the Hokage's Tower, and switched on the mini flashlight, careful of the polished surfaces, as not to indicate his position. This was a test, after all, and Mizuki would be very disappointed in him, should the proctors catch him (Mizuki had indicated that they would be on the lookout for him). He glanced at the color pencil map, ducking the corner, and then proceeding to sneak past one corridor. His back to the wall, Naruto turned around another corner.

He spied from the corner of his eye; a stairwell to the storage area, where the Hokage kept the document; where Mizuki-sensei said it would be, and in his success, would be able to achieve his ninja rank. Naruto discreetly went down the stairwell, careful not to make a sound. And when the young boy was quiet, he could, surprisingly, be _very _much so. He had made his way to the floor below the ground floor. Only one more level to go. Naruto went down the straight corridor, dimly lit by the electric fluorescent lights hanging on the sides of the wall. Once again, grabbing out the flashlight, Naruto looked at the map, before putting it back in its place, and sneaking past another lit corridor.

Only to find two Chuunin, in particular, Hagane Kotetsu and Kamizuki Izumo, and much to his chagrin, an ANBU.

To be specific, an ANBU _Captain_. His (he was sure it was a guy, since the upper body lacked any protrusions) rank was indicated by the purple ribbon that was tied around his left arm, and the standard ANBU armor being much more… _armor_-ish, rather like rough metal coated over normal overalls. Naruto swore; he should have known that there would be a catch to this test! Evading the ANBU peons on an almost weekly basis served for the Academy to one-up the amp on him, or so it seemed. And now, he had to deal with an ANBU Captain. Probably one of the best ninjas in the village; he shook that thought; _was_ one of the best ninjas in the village. He had to take it smooth here; even in stealth, which he excelled in, and deceit, which made him very much the God of Trickery, an ANBU Captain would make it a very hard task to get by. So he decided to give up whole-heartedly on the matter, and played it _his_ way.

Naruto emptied his pockets, discovering the wad of gum that he had chewed in the morning, all balled up in the wrapper. Grinning to himself, he applied chakra to the substance, citing a chemical reaction (he had read about the adverse effects of chakra upon other chemicals, as a kid, just for fun) turning around the corner to spy upon the ANBU Captain, before turning back to his wad of gum. He emptied his other pocket, and found a fake explosive note from the Tanabata festival from last year; these would have to do for now. His back pocket had a lighter: the grin widened.

'So, let me get this straight,' the Captain's voice began, 'You see each other naked, sleep in bed together, have breakfast at each other's houses, cuddle in sleep, sew during your free time… and you both insist that you _aren't_ gay?'

Nods all around from the two Chuunin, who nodded in such eerie unison that it could have made Orochimaru proud.

In a swift motion, he threw the wad of gum, which hit the back of the Captain's head. Gum, in particular, when in contact with chakra, has the effect of metal and reconstructing into a harder substance. Now, _chewing_ gum, upon contact with chakra, however, if containing the elements that make up the minty flavour, reacts to make a _stench_.

'Wh-What's that smell?' Kamizuki Izumo sniffed the air, coming into contact with the substance, 'It smells like…'

'SHIT!' Kotetsu hastily covered his nose, refusing to breathe in the smell, 'THIS SMELLS LIKE BAD, BAD SHIT!'

Izumo sniffed the air again, before covering his nose, his eyes comedically watering upon contact with the stench.

'EW, YOU FARTED, MAN!' the two Chuunin accused in creepy unison, pointing accusing fingers at the ANBU.

'F-Farted? No, I didn't! I think that I would know if I farted, thank you very much!' his pleas were met with steel.

'Damn it, Yamato! You're such a flachulant! You forgot to take your pills today, didn't you! You stinkin' farter…'

And as the three men bickered and moved away, Uzumaki Naruto smiled to himself, content with his tactic. With the Chuunins and the ANBU Captain out of the way, he moved, carefully and discreetly, so as not to catch anymore attention than he should: _none whatsoever_. He moved faster, making his way down another flight of stairs as he reached the end of another corridor, before coming face-to-face with a dark floor, void of light, save for one lightbulb.

This was the floor: the floor that had the Scroll that he was to retrieve. He looked to the door to the storage room, which was at the end of the short corridor down the flight of stairs. He sneaked a peek, just to check for any presence. None whatsoever; this was perfect, it seemed that with the ANBU would not be here anytime soon, with the distraction that he had offered their Captain in the form of a smelly head and hair. He made his way to the end of the short corridor, discovering that the door was chained rather heavily, with several padlocks holding the chains together as it bound the ten feet tall metal doors shut. Naruto, looking at the nine padlocks, grinned as he pulled out ten paper clips.

Exactly two minutes, three seconds and nine nano-second later, Uzumaki Naruto succeeded in opening the doors.

The storeroom was _small_. It was only about the size of half his bedroom. But, he had to reason, most Kages died with the secrets they kept; it was somewhat like a code of honor of the Kage. There were only nine sets of racks, each with four shelves. He neared one, and spied a scroll, seating normally; this had to be the scroll: this had to be the scroll…

His headache: it was back. Painful, much more painful this time. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, as his vision began to double, and his temple began to sweat. He panted hard, grabbing a shelf for support. Not now! He couldn't lose concentration now of all times! This was his last chance to prove that he wasn't completely worthless! He had to.

'Hey, Izumo, someone's down here! Somebody's broken into the storage room!' he heard Hagane Kotetsu yell out.

He had to grab the Scroll of Forbidden Seals and make a break for it. There wasn't anyway in Hell that he was going to fail this time. Not this time. Naruto grabbed the scrolls on a particular shelf, four or five of them, he couldn't actually see very well at this moment, but was sure that the Scroll of Forbidden Seals was among them; the headache was bad. With his free arm, Naruto grabbed out about half a dozen smoke pallets, and rushing outside the door, tossed them, creating a smokescreen and allowing his escape in the confusion. The Chuunins flailed wildly, and in an instance, almost, and would have, caught him. But in this instance, they missed their chance, and Naruto made it scot-free.

But not before a certain short-haired ANBU Captain took notice of the blonde Genin as he went right past him.

* * *

He panted tiredly, dropping the many large scrolls that he had brought with him. He had probably run at an incredible rate, judging by his heartbeat. Naruto's headache continued, as rested his back against a tree. His eyes were bloodshot, as he surveyed the littered grass. He had done it: he had completed Mizuki-sensei's test. He had retrieved the Scroll of Forbidden Seals (if it was among that pile) and proven that he was worthy of a place within the ranks of the Konoha ninjas. He laughed, beside himself, exhausted and in pain, but happy. Naruto's vision began to return, as he spied the scrolls again. His headache was subsiding. His eyes rested on the thickest of the scrolls that he had grabbed: The Scroll of Forbidden Seals, decorated like a familiar Konoha Jutsu Scroll would be. It caught his initial interest, but it did not hold it for long, as Naruto's eyes drifted upon a familiar scroll: a scroll that, upon his eyes contact with, had given him a headache (no pun intended); it was mysterious, half as thick as the Scroll of Forbidden Seals, and about an inch shorter in width. Naruto's eyebrows raised in curiousity, as the young boy made his way to the Scroll, crawling through the cool grass, staining the knees of his orange attire. He reached out for it, picking it up, and around him, the air grew… cold? Very much so. But, it also made him warm… it was as if the old scroll had altered his surroundings. 

He reached out for it, only to end up within a torrent of pain. Visions flooded his mind; horrific and dark visions. He saw green monsters battle corpses, countless corpses rising from the dead. He saw a hevily armored warrior, brandishing a sword, cloaked, piercing the skull of a frail old man. He saw a young woman die with regret, wishing for the past to change, and to alter, ultimately, the future. He saw a woman whisper words… powerful words into the ear of a monster driven with power, and then he saw a dragon, roaring and crying in agony, as its own kin was slaughtered…

'NARUTO, YOU FOOLISH IDIOT OF A STUDENT!' came the shout of a familiar voice, bringing the man back to reality. He then felt the tell-tale feelings that Iruka had been the one to shout that. After all, he did have the bump to prove it was actually him. Naruto, exhausted, raised his head to meet his teacher, who was now glaring at him from the lowest fiery pits of Hell. He then grabbed his student by the scruff of his white collar, 'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING STEALING ALL THESE?! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT THE PUNISHMENT IS FOR THEFT?!'

'Um…' Naruto was now confused; hadn't Iruka been the one to issue Mizuki an order to have him steal the Scroll of Forbidden Seals? 'But, Sensei, Mizuki-sensei said that you and Old Man Hokage would have me pass if I did this!'

'Mizu-?' Iruka's eyes widened at that particular statement, as the truth dawned upon him. He never got to finish his words, however, as, sensing danger, he pushed Naruto out of the way, and in doing so, was nailed by three kunai.

'Che, what a waste, I was hoping to kill the rat and get away with this, but I guess it's just not that easy, huh?'

Iruka gritted his teeth in pain; the kunai had been buried deep. It was the least he could expect from a person who claimed to be one of the more famous C-ranked Weapons Specialists that Konoha had known: Mizuki the Kunai Thrower. Mizuki had been rumored to have splintered a rock with an easy throw of the kunai; he had experienced it first-hand now. The Chuunin was now standing upon the branch of a nearby tree, twirling several kunai in his hands, eyeing the student and sensei with extreme distaste. Naruto's shocked eyes drifted from Mizuki, back to the injured Iruka, who had been attacked by the kunai Mizuki had thrown at him, and it looked like a second barrage was ready.

'H-Hey, Mizuki-sensei, what's going on?' he tried to make reasoning out of the situation: this just wasn't right!

'Naruto! Mizuki's a traitor!' Iruka coughed up some blood, suggesting that he had some internal bleeding as well.

'Don't listen to Iruka, Naruto!' the grinning Mizuki was back; the kind-hearted and smiling Mizuki from the rooftop; the one that had offered him a chance in the ninja life. He grinned wickedly, 'He actually really hates you, you know!'

Naruto's eyes, confused, as well as his mind, turned to Iruka, who looked away, unable to meet his student's eyes. Naruto, processing this newfound information, turned back to Mizuki, who had now jumped from the tree bramch, and onto the ground, bringing himself onto the same level as the pair: one confused boy, and one incapacitated ninja.

'Would you like to know why?' the grin stayed, promising pain and nothing less, 'Wouldn't you like to, Naruto?'

'Mizuki, stop! The Sandaime's decree! Remember his decree!' he cried out, kowing full well Mizuki wouldn't stop.

Mizuki's small laughter could be heard, as the chilling winds blew around the area, fluttering leaves all around.

'Twelve years ago, there was a Demon Fox that attacked the village… it's powers were said to be so great that its taile scould shatter ountains, and its roars could raise tsunamis across vast oceans… and I'm sure, that in class, you've heard the censored version of the story. The version that states the defeat of the creature at the hands of Yondaime?' there was a slow nod from Naruto; he took the hint, but he couldn't… he just couldn't… 'But he never really beat it! As powerful as the Hokage might have been, even the Yellow Flash had to fail, and so he did! He, instead of defeating it and destroying at the cost of his own life, the Yondaime did something else: he sealed it in a baby: YOU, Naruto!'

His eyes widened. A human chill made its way up his spine, as Mizuki continued to play with the kunai at hand.

'You, Naruto! You're the Demon Fox! That's why Iruka failed you! That's why everyone glares at you! You took away homes; family; you took away all the things that they held oh so very dear…' the maniacal grin, 'So there.'

Four kunai were thrown, as a shocked Naruto did nothing, the kunai making their way towards him, before a Chuunin knocked him out of the way, sending the both of them tumbling into the grassy ground. Naruto, still frozen, was silent.

'Naruto… I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Naruto…' Iruka was crying, tears flowed freely down his face, Naruto, his blue eyes still recovering from the shock of the revelation, was silent, but looking at the man that had protected him, 'The truth is… I know how you feel; to be shunned, to be looked down upon. I know your pain… I understand you. I was just like you, too. Dead-last; the worst of the worst. People onlt laughed at me, never cheered for me. I was the clown. The clown who stands on a stage with an audience that only pays for my value as an entertainer. I… I am sorry.'

Naruto did not know how to respond; he had no idea. His brain, for the moment, had stopped functioning at its normal capacity, and he followed his instinct; he ran. Grabbing whatever scrolls he could, he ran. He went away as far as he could. As fast as he could; he didn't know if he was scared or just shocked: maybe both. Mizuki… Mizuki had told him a truth; an absolute truth. Why? Why hadn't he seen it before? Why hadn't he realized it? The Kyuubi's rampage upon Konoha, was on the same date as the day he was born: why couldn't he just have seen that fact?

He hid behind a large tree, holding his knees tight, the scrolls that he had picked up were scattered all around.

_It's me… it's me… I did it… I killed those people's family… I… I really am… I really am a monster, aren't I?_

'I don't get it, Iruka!' Mizuki's voice; loud and clear; 'they had made their way here now, and Naruto's spine fe;t chills going up its structure, and white hot tears making their way down his visage, 'I thought you hated the demon!'

'Yeah, I hated the demon.' Iruka's declaration came… and Naruto bit his lip hard, drawing blood as the silver-haired Chuunin made himself known with a laugh, 'But I don't hate Naruto,' his eyes snapped open. Somehow, now it was much easier to breathe. 'Naruto… is my most hardworking student; he dreams of becoming Hokage; fails his tests; lies about his assignments and keeps trying and trying; he leaves me for broke when I treat him; he keeps getting rejected and hated by the villagers and I joined with them… but now… I realize that he is not a Demon, but _Uzumaki Naruto_!'

His eyes shot wide open, his senses were acute, and his mouth unable to speak. Naruto came out of hiding, following the voices, the scrolls that were littered shoved into his pockets, as he charged into the battle between Chuunin, dashing, and blocking another kunai from Mizuki's final strike; destined to pierce the forehead of Umino Iruka.

He had drawn out his only kunai, and stood defiant, much to the surprise of the two Chuunin present. Naruto was standing, with a battered kunai, his pockets full of the scrolls that he had stolen, and his blue eyes blazing with determination and the sheer _will_ to stand between Iruka and the man that could, and should have been his murderer.

'If you touch Iruka-sensei, I'll _kill_ you!' he swore, glaring into the eyes of the chuunin, who only massaged his neck.

Naruto, caught off guard by this action, was then subjected by a kick of Mizuki's, as the Chuunin had somehow replaced his form before him with a Bunshin, and had feinted him before he had even been flushed out. Naruto swore, his battered kunai clattering onto the grass, as the Bunshin that was Mizuki, the one before him, disappeared. He was then subjected to pain: a kunai had found itself in his ribs. Naruto screamed, as Iruka looked on in horror at Mizuki, as he twisted the kunai in his flesh, causing the young blonde to cough up blood, before kicking his jaw and smashing his form into a tree, slumping down at the base., as his pockets emptied themselves of the scrolls. He lay still, in pain.

He clutched the wound at his side, cursing as Mizuki neared him, still grinning that bastard grin of his. That _grin_.

'You're finished now, Demon Fox. Who knows? Maybe with all the trouble you caused tonight, maybe you might even be considered as a ninja.' He drew a Fuuma Shuriken, 'But this is the end of the road; dine in Hell, DEMON!'

_You've got to be kidding me… this life… this life that Iruka-sensei has saved and acknowledged… is… is it really going to end up here? Am I… is this… will I…? No, I… I want to fight! I can't die! Not here! Not now! I FIGHT!_

The Scroll… The Scroll that Naruto had experienced headaches came out of his pocket, rolling to his bloody right hand, a result of him holing onto his young wound. As he looked into the eyes of Mizuki, poised to strike, Naruto, either by Fate, or even pure luck, touched the Scroll with his bloody hand. He had touched The Scroll of Grim.

In an instant, a flash of bright blue light appeared, illuminating the dark night, as runes; ancient runes, made their mark upon the ground, a circle, with many symbols and words in languagaes Naruto could only hope to one day, understand. Mizuki backed off instantly. Naruto, his eyes wide at the glowing blue light; a resultant from the circle and runes on the grassy ground, began to make a form, tall and made of light. Mizuki, in his retreat, as the blue light began to fade, suddently found himself lacking: his right arm was missing, and he was sent flying into the forest enclave.

Naruto, regaining focus, stood in silence, as he watched the cause of Mizuki's loss. She was a woman; and not in one way did she resemble a Japanese beauty. Rather tall in height and stature. Regal and powerful, with raven tresses of long hair adorning her being to the small of her back. Her skin was fair, with pink lips and a faint outline of purple tattoos upon her face, although in no way would it be a blemish. Her figure, if Naruto had paid attention, would have probably been the object of envy of the women of Konoha, with a plentiful bosom and an regal figure. She was clad in foreign clothing; a blue dress that he had seen from the western lands, which possessed an armor that covered her stomach, and a low cut top with an elegant sash in her arms, and what looked like shoulder plates made of silver metal, carved and decorated as though they were weapons. And her eyes; a mixture between a cloudy sky and a calm ocean.

'Servant: Illucia; upon your summoning, I have come forth.' she spoke, turning to the young boy, who was on his bottom, a cut upon his forehead, and his voice as silent as the bright moon herself, 'I ask of you, are you my Master?'

Naruto's blue eyes regarded her, but she said nothing, his pain… his revelations… they were gone.

_For once, I was speechless; awestruck. Maybe it had been because I had never been in this kind of situation ever before… no. This woman before me, with her stunning beauty and her melodic voice, had left me into silence…_

A/N: Chapter 1 in all its glory! Please review, and don't hesitate to add any info to what you would actually want here; I enjoy long and detailed ones, to describe what is wrong with my story, and what has room for improvement. Contact me at for any details, neh?

**OMAKE 1:**

_Naruto, instead of being speechless during the end, decides to speak up._

"YES! YES! I'M YOUR MASTER! OH YEAH! BOOYA! I GOT A HOT GIRL! I GOT A HOT GIRL!"

**OMAKE 2:**

_The real reason Arthas turned Lich._

"All the candy a little boy could dream of, you say?" Sparkly-eyed Arthas said

"You bet your stinkin' ass, blondie." Kel'thuzad replied.

And so, all of Azeroth fell.

**OMAKE 3:**

_A different interpretation…_

'I ask of you, are you my Master?'

A nod.

'Have I been a bad girl?'

His eyes went wide; she was on all fours now. She crawled towards him, a sultry smiled playing on her lips.

He nodded.

'Do I deserve to be punished?'

He nodded again.

And so, Uzumaki Naruto was no longer a virgin. He had three kids and lived happily ever after.


End file.
